Writer.
Motivational Speaker.
Content Creator.
My Story
I met Rachel at one of her high school football games in the fall of 1992. I still remember what she was wearing as she walked down the bleachers. She was 15 and I was 17. I had left high school early in the Midwest and was in search of friends my age when I moved to Boone, NC. My parents were divorcing, and this move was a fresh start on a variety of fronts.
Meeting Rachel was yet another check in the boxes of life. I had always dated girls, was liked by their parents, and had avoided the physical aspect of any relationship with a female. With Rachel, it was different. We dated for six years before I asked her to marry me. We married on August 29, 1998, in front of approximately 250 friends and family.
Shortly after we were married, I found myself increasingly curious about men.
This is saying a lot for me because I had a few same sex experiences in high school and had felt I was gay or “different” than my male friends since I was about six years old. Nonetheless, I managed to suppress the desire to act on my feelings when Rachel and I were married, at least at first.
In late 2002, I decided to leave the District Attorney’s office when the D.A. announced he wouldn’t run for re-election.
I was soon thereafter recruited by a former intern to join her husband’s medical practice and assist with policy, procedure, and people. I remember her telling me that a new doctor would be joining the practice who she thought I would “just love.” Little did I know how true that would be.
Matt started at the practice in October 2002, while I finished my tenure in the D.A.’s office before I was full time at the practice in January 2003. Rachel and I quickly became couple friends with Matt and his ex-wife. I had never had many male friends, but something was different with Matt. He wasn’t like the other male friends I had. The four of us spent time together and even traveled together.
In May 2003, Matt and I attended an office retreat in Holden Beach, NC.
As the only males other than the owner, we shared a room with two double beds. The first night, May 23, 2003, Matt and I went to bed and talked for about three hours. We talked about a lot. It was a conversation unlike any I had ever had. I knew he was interested in men. I didn’t really know what that meant other than I wanted to act on the connection we had formed over the months.
That night, we had our first sexual experience together. The next morning, we talked about what had happened and Matt made it clear that it couldn’t happen again. I felt devastated and wondered if it was me.
Nothing happened that night, but on our last night together there were fireworks. We were separated for a week while Matt was immediately out of town, and it was miserable. I thought of him constantly and knew that only he fully knew the real me. What if he told someone? What would I do?
After he returned home, we met after work to talk through all that was occurring.
That was June 6, 2003. As we parted ways, he said, “the only thing that would make this more difficult is if one of our wives got pregnant.”
When I arrived home that evening, Rachel was on the couch crying and quickly revealed that she was pregnant.
The next three months were a blur.
Matt and I ate lunch together at his house every day. We frequently were together with our wives, including on trips. Matt and I even went camping together in the Smoky Mountains. I was hooked. I felt a closeness with Matt that I had never felt. I could fully be myself. I still remember the feeling of our first kiss on July 4, 2003.
Despite the elation, there was stress and massive internal conflict. I would leave work during the day to cry and to try to focus. I was distracted all the time.
On September 7, 2003, I told Matt that I had to tell Rachel all that was happening. I could no longer live the lie. That night, we each told our wives the truth in our own homes. Rachel was devastated to the point that I was concerned about her and the baby.
I called my mom without providing any information and asked her to come over for support. When she arrived, I looked at her with Rachel sitting between us and told her three things: I had had an affair, it was with another man, and that I was gay.
Barely pausing before speaking, she said,
“and I still love you.”
Those words confirmed what I had always known.
My mom would always love me no matter what, and me being gay was a non-event for her. I was the one who forced myself into the boxes of society for the first 28 years of my life. I am the one who had set unrealistic and unfair expectations for myself. She was there to support me and made it clear.
Those five words imparted courage, comfort, and support for me to forge my path forward as an openly gay man beginning on September 7, 2003.
To this day, those words hold incredible meaning to me. Those words have mattered more than any other in my life as they showed me that, despite all I had been through, all I had suppressed, all the mistakes I had made along the way, my mom was still steadfast by my side.
I have often thought about how I would have responded had she spoken different words that night. I feel that my confidence would have been shaken and that I would have been more hesitant in my path forward without knowing that I had her steadfast love and support, but that didn’t happen.
Instead, I moved forward, some days more confidently than others, but I still moved forward.
Those words and so many others spoken by my mom have made me who I am today.
Now more than ever, I can see with gratitude the resilience that I have developed firsthand throughout my life and just how possible it truly is to find the good in every bad drink.
